


Red Paint

by SilverFliesInBlueSugar



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Injury, Child Neglect, Cutting, Gen, Graphic Description, Introspection, Madarame almost kind of maybe cares for a sec, Madarame needs to get his shit together, Near Death Experiences, Self-Harm, Stitches, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, accidental suicide attempt, but it's mild i swear, poor yusuke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFliesInBlueSugar/pseuds/SilverFliesInBlueSugar
Summary: It often inspired him to paint, though he always destroyed these works. They were quite... Self explanatory normally, showcasing some form of blank grey or brown mass and apon that, seas of blood red or slashes of technicolour.





	Red Paint

Red was the most passionate colour, and honestly one of Yusuke's favoured.

Most looking at him would think he preffered subdued. Pale blue's, greyed purple's.

And to be fair, he did look the part of the quiet, typical artist. Plain dark blue hair that hung down over his face, simple button up white shirt, and black dress pants.

A normal, boring, typical teenager.

And he was determined to keep that image up. Of a normal teen with a normal home life.

Before, when he hadn't been so good at hiding the flinches and 'sorry, sir's' that automatically came, he had been approached by all manner of people. Asking him if he was alright, how everything was at home, if he needed help.

He always gave a placid smile and shrugged them off.

There had almost been an investigation once. Madarame had been furious, roared at him for an hour about what he was doing to his reputation.

Yusuke sighed. He had immediately backed off from people. Broke off the meager friendships he had. Became reclusive. Anything to stop people paying attention to him.

Madarame didn't hit him quite so much after that, seeming to favour psychological torment instead, disallowing Yusuke things like sleep and permission to leave his room for days on end when school was off.

All the other students under him fled. Some had their lives irreparably ruined. Others mostly escaped the backlash but were still struggling to find jobs after spending their entire lives having every day planned out for them by one narcissistic man.

Being alone was a time Yusuke might have used to let out his emotion productively, if he had thought clearly even with all of the emotion clouding his head. Alone was when red finally surfaced, after spending all day in the dim blues and greens and greys of school. He saw red in his fury, even as he took deep breaths to calm himself. He felt like he must be overheating, and noted that heat was also normally characterised by red.

Then he had seen his art knife by his easel and canvas, inconsequential and small, and his fingers had wrapped around the x-acto before he could think and he had pressed it to his arm.

The result was instantaneous and he almost smiled. How hadn't he thought of this sooner? A private way to vent that didn't draw attention, as scars were easy to hide with long sleeves, that he could easily access at almost all times.

That a faded grey could bring out a vibrant red fascinated the artist in him, and at one occasion he mused grimly that half of this addiction was visually morbid fascination. In fact, it often inspired him to paint, though he always destroyed these works. They were quite... Self explanatory normally, showcasing some form of blank grey or brown mass and apon that, seas of blood red or slashes of technicolour.

And so for nearly a year, Yusuke found himself suitably distracted without any inteference.

Unfortunately, living with a man who seemed to constantly assert himself in his life every waking moment had the downside that he hadn't truly thought of when he started - that being caught out was nigh inevitable.

He had been tired one day. Not an unusual occurance or anything noteworthy; under Madarame's watch he was lucky to get even 4 hours of sleep. And when he had been releasing his stress, he had slipped when lurching, almost fainting. He quickly righted himself, but the momentum had slashed the blade almost the full length of his arm.

"Oh.. Oh dear" he managed after a moment, eyes wide as his vision grew blurry. He dropped the blade, ignoring how the blade was inconspiciously red rimmed, and pulled his arm to his chest to stem the flow. Red quickly spread across his shirt, and he staggered to the door, pulling it slightly ajar.

Madarame was nowhere to be seen - likely in his own room. Good.

He made his way to the bathroom, dizzy and with black spots invading his vision at the continuous blood loss. His though process felt heady and de-focussed. He knew he wouldn't die if he got the wound treated quick, but it was still a rather frightning moment for him, legs trembling from a mix of anxiety and adrenalin.

He put his hand in the sink and put the cold tap on full blast. The instant responsive sting was sickening and he felt his stomach lurch slightly at the heavy snap of pain, but he tried his best to push past it to open the small glass cupboard, fingerprints smearing blood on the glass as he pulled out bandages.

Not a perfect solution by any means, but one to slow his seemingly imminent untimely death.

He then pulled out a small bottle of antiseptic. He grit his teeth and braced himself before unending the bottle onto his arm.

The pain was agonising. He bit down on his lip as hard as he could to not faint, and began to pant once he allowed himself to breath again, lip swollen. He tightly bound his arm with bandages and slumped against the bathroom wall, breathing heavy, vision swaying.

There was a crash and he dully realized that the now empty antiseptic bottle he had haphazardly put back on the side had fallen down and shattered.

There was a noise from another part of the house, and Yusuke faintly heard thundering footsteps. He tried to get up, but slipped in a puddle of his blood and crashed back down with a shout.

The door was flung open, and before him Madarame's mouth was wide open, clearly to scream at him. He seemed to freeze at the sight. The bathroom was covered in smears of blood, especially on the door handle, sink sides and cabinet. Yusuke himself was soaked, hands caked in it as well a large section of the front of his shirt. There were small puddles of blood around the room, and the tap in the sink still sprayed water fervently, the water it dredged down the drain now tinted pink. The tight bandages Yusuke had applied were soaking through subtly, slight red becoming present. The wound clearly needed stitches.

There was a beat of inaction where they just stared at each other, Yusuke on the verge of passing out, before Madarame's jaw clicked shut, face unreadable behind a slight veneer of shock, and he ran to the cabinet, seemingly uncaring of how his sandles became bloodstained, as he needed to step in the small puddles. 

He pulled out a needle and medical thread and told Yusuke to brace himself and close his eyes but not to fall asleep. When he obliged, he felt the bandages slowly unwrap. Madarame then instructed him to hold the two sides of skin either side of the gash together, to which he did with a grimace, and tightly re-shut his eyes to spare himself the grisly sight of Madarame stitching his arm. It was agonising, but then, all of this had been unbearable. 

When it was finished Madarame cut off another round of bandages and carefully rebound it. With that he pulled Yusuke to stand up and moved him to his room, sitting him down on his bed.

Finally, after what seemed like several minutes where Yusuke stared at his arm with slowly improving vision, Madarame finally spoke.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Yusuke flinched, eyes downcast. "It was an accident. I will not do it again, and i will clean up the mess i cause-"

"NO!" Madarame shouted, and Yusuke couldn't repress a flinch. The elder's hands grabbed his shoulders with bruising force. "Yusuke Kitagawa, look at me"

He cautiously met his gaze.

Madarame looked angered, but not nearly as much as he had expected. It was dampered by something... Unknown. "How the hell could you resort to cutting yourself?! Do not think for one second i did not see the other cuts on your arm"

Yusuke didn't know what to answer. 

Madarame sighed and ran a hand down his face. "...Don't bother doing any art or cleaning until that arm is better" he said, and the younger turned a shocked face to stare at him. What? He was giving him leeway?!

"I can clean the bathroom" Madarame finally said, walking out before noticing the art knife. He picked it up with a scowl before shooting the teen a look. "And no access to art knives for a month. That is non-negotiable. Sleep the pain off, i don't want to see you walking around unless you have slept all night. Understood?"

Yusuke mutely nodded.

Madarame left.

Yusuke was puzzled. Madarame had been as brash as normal, clearly angered and frustrated, and he didn't doubt things would return to normal after his arm had healed slightly.

But...

For a moment there, it had sort of felt like the man who had taken him in might truly care for him beyond Yusuke's desperate delusions.

He shook it off and fell back onto his bed.

And slept a full 8 hours that night.


End file.
